


Love Game

by Queen_Saru



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Crossover, Humour, M/M, Romance, Talking Furniture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-13
Updated: 2011-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-23 17:10:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Saru/pseuds/Queen_Saru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shigelle’s plans to be somebody are trampled underfoot when a few days work turns into the chance of a lifetime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Game

Our story begins in a small town. It – like most small towns – was barely a dot on any available road map, and didn’t even begin to register on GoogleMaps.

Because of this relative obscurity, it was a town filled with some of the plainest people, as well as some of the most unusual. None were more usual than Jinston. A young man of good fortune – and thankfully matching good looks – he was often found in the company of Lefangirl, who doted on his every word and every look.

Unfortunately for Lefangirl, Jinston’s only interest was in the beautiful – but bookish – Shigelle. None of the town-folk could figure out just what Jinston saw in the brunet (other than his looks, of course), as he did nothing but read.

Shigelle though, had no interest in Jinston, and merely rolled his eyes every time the older man came preening around with his attempts to impress him. Shigelle was going to _be_ someone. He was going to get out of this small town and move to the city, and his future definitely didn’t involve getting involved with someone as small-minded as Jinston, whose only goal was to someday take over the pub that his mother ran.

“You’re being _picky_ ,” Shigelle’s father Koyice said one night at dinner. “You’re turning twenty- _three_ this year. That’s practically on the shelf.”

Koyice meant well, and while a little bit scatterbrained, he was a good father who had never forced Shigelle to accept Jinston’s many proposals, even if it would have raised their social and monetary status considerably. Still, Shigelle knew he worried about what would happen when he died, leaving Shigelle alone.

“I know,” Shigelle said, voice sincere even though he never once looked up from the book he was reading while eating his dinner. “I just don’t want to marry _Jinston_. He’s got the whole town gaga after him, so why does he want me anyway? I’d probably brain him upside the head with an encyclopaedia within the first month of our marriage, and then where would I be?”

“A rich widow?” It was a struggle, but Koyice managed to keep his laughter to himself as he answered. He honestly couldn’t blame Shigelle, but it was his parental duty to nag, so by God’s tooth, he was going to nag. At least until his son brained _him_ upside the head with an encyclopaedia.

  


_-)—(-_

  
“I don’t understand,” Jinston said mopily into his beer. “Why doesn’t he say yes? I’m _me_.”

Lefangirl blinked several times and remained silent for a moment as she thought, but she honestly couldn’t come up with anything, because she couldn’t figure out why anyone would say no to Jinston for anything. It was inconceivable. Even if that word didn’t mean what she thought it meant. “Maybe he was dropped on his head as a child?” she eventually offered, at a loss for anything else.

Jinston huffed softly as he thought about that for a moment. “Nah… I think that would have made him nicer… not meaner.”

Sitting in the bar with his beer, Jinston suddenly wished more than ever that his best friend Pisworth who used to work up at the mansion on the hill hadn’t suddenly stopped coming into town or returning his text messages. Being without a best friend was even worse than being without beer, and it had been almost a year since all the staff at the mansion had suddenly stopped returning calls or coming home, and a year was a long time for Jinston to be without Pisworth.

Jinston wasn’t used to being on his own. He liked company, and most of all, he liked Pisworth’s company. He just didn’t like being without his friend. It was no fun at all. Sinking further into his funk, Jinston pouted into his beer.

  


_-)—(-_

  
“You’re a talking _candle_ ,” Shigelle exclaimed, crouching down to poke the thing in the center of its brass holder. “How can you be a talking candle?”

“Um, _excuse_ me, it’s candelabra, thank you very much,” Ryomiere replied with a disdainful look on his waxy little face. “And unlike _some_ yippy little footstools, of _course_ I can talk.” Here he shot a look at the yippy little footstool in question, though it was actually less of a little footstool and more of a massive chaise lounge, which caused problems when Junno (the footstool/chaise lounge in question) got excited and started running around the castle, much like he was currently doing.

Shigelle snorted softly at the ~candelabra’s~ tone, but he didn’t do more than that, because he was still a bit stunned and wondering if he’d somehow slipped and cracked his head on the stone floor on his way in, because his brains spilling out onto the ground were the only explanation he could come up with for the fact that he was holding a conversation with what should have been inanimate objects.

“ _How_ can you talk?” he finally thought to ask after he’d stopped being distracted by his thoughts as well as what appeared to be a very flirty French maid-looking feather duster.

“Because we weren’t always objects,” a sullen and dejected looking clock who had introduced himself as Pisworth said. “We _were_ people once. But then our master—“

“Pisworth! Master will get mad! You know he doesn’t like us talking about _that_ ,” Maru yelped, even as he tried to keep himself and his teacups (especially his favourite and best friend, Koki) from rattling too much as Junno thundered around the room excitedly.

Now Shigelle was intrigued. Here was a story, a mystery, something right out of a manga and it was all happening to him. “What happened?” he asked eagerly, ignoring Maru’s earlier outburst.

But Pisworth had clammed up and he merely cast a helpless look to the side, begging Ryomiere to fix this, because the last thing he wanted was to have their master mad at him for spilling his secrets to someone who was only in the mansion to help with the paperwork that had piled up over the last year.

Rolling his eyes, Ryomiere shot a glare at Maru. “If we don’t tell anyone, then we’ll never get free of this curse. Besides, he’s kind of cute in a dumpy sort of way... maybe he’s Master’s type.”

“Hey!”

“Oh shut up. Anyway, as Pisworth was saying, we used to be human. All of us. Except Junno; he was a Golden Retriever.”

Shigelle glanced over to where the chaise lounge was now flopped on its back in front of the fireplace, wooden legs in the air. ... and it appeared to be snoring. Turning back to Ryomiere – just as confused as he’d been five minutes ago – he spoke, tone perplexed. “So if you were humans, how did you end up as... houseware?”

“I was getting there! Shut up and pay attention,” Ryomiere snapped.

“Ryomiere’s grumpy because Tegette hasn’t left him alone since we changed – and he was pretty persistent when we were _human_ ,” Pisworth whispered, gesturing to the feather duster. He seemed a little less sullen now that Ryomiere was telling their story.

Covering his mouth with one hand when he started to giggle helplessly, Shigelle attempted to fake a cough and act innocent when Ryomiere levelled a glare in his direction.

“Anyway, as I was saying, we were humans originally, but then our master – who is an amazing clothing designer, by the way – managed to piss off this stupid bitch with one of his outfits.”

“You mean witch?”

“No, no I meant bitch.”

The rest of the staff nodded vigorously.

“Anyway, seems the stupid twit had gone and gained weight since the last fitting, so of course the dress didn’t fit, but instead of admitting that she’d had one too many cream puffs, she accused Master of trying to purposely ruin her life, and make her look fat. She didn’t shut _up_. Before Master could apologize – he’s nice like that, she stormed out and took a quick flight to New Orleans to visit a voodoo priest. Before we could say ‘dust cloth’, we were all looking like this!”

It was impossible not to feel sorry for the staff when they all looked so dismayed and hopeless, but Shigelle wasn’t sure what he could do about it. “What happened to your master?” he finally asked, at a loss for what else to say.

“He’s cursed too, yo,” Koki said, speaking for the first time.

Shigelle blinked, because the pattern on the teacup was... interesting, and it directly contrasted with the sedate argyle pattern that decorated Maru the teapot and the rest of the cups. “He’s an object too?”

“Nah,” Koki replied, “She cursed him into horrid fashion. No matter what he makes or puts on, it all ends up as blinding colours, clashing designs, and strange cuts. Until he can find someone who’ll love those clothes, the curse can’t be broken.”

“And no one can love a puce waistcoat and yellow pants,” Maru said with a sigh.

Shige couldn’t help the look that crossed his face at Maru’s example description of their cursed master’s clothes, even as he felt a little bad for them, because the teapot was right; who on earth could love clothes like that? He had a feeling that the staff here would be waiting a long long time before their curse was lifted, especially if their master seemed to not want to advertise the fact that they were all cursed in the first place.

“Wait…” he asked when Ryomiere’s earlier words came back to him suddenly. “What does the curse have to do with me being your Master’s type? I thought someone had to love the clothes, not him.”

Ryomiere just shrugged and gave him a guileless smile. “People in love are idiots. Maybe if you fall in love with him then you’ll love his clothes too?”

Shigelle just rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to fall in love with their Master, no matter what they thought. He was going to get out of this town; and fashion designer or not, this man still lived here, which wasn’t part of Shigelle’s plans.

“I’m not falling in love with anyone,” he reiterated out loud. “I have _plans_.”

Pisworth just grinned in a way that made Shigelle want to flick at his coggy little nose. Ryomiere’s expression was even smugger and it had Shigelle contemplating what would happen if he lit the candelabra’s candlewicks and left them burning permanently.

“I’m _not_ falling in love with _anyone_. I have _plans_ ,” he said once more in case they hadn’t heard him. “Plans that don’t involve staying in this town. Got it?”

“Mmhmm, whatever you say,” Ryomiere replied, grin still wide.

“I’m not staying!”

  


_-)—(-_

  
_Dammit._ Shigelle thought to himself as he sulked at the dining table a few weeks later, two weeks longer than he’d intended to stay in the first place. He was falling in love. It wasn’t fair, but it seemed like it was impossible not to love Massu. He was sweet and kind and he also had these _muscles_ , which despite his still unfortunate fashion, had given Shigelle more than a few late night fantasies.

Staring blankly at the group of cutlery that seemed to be doing a drunken ensemble further on down the table top, Shigelle considered his options. If he admitted his feelings for Massu, Ryomiere would gloat. A lot. However, if he kept them to himself, Massu might sadface at him and that was worse than Ryomiere’s smugness. It was really a no-win situation.

Sighing overdramatically, he tried to focus on the food in front of him instead of his thoughts for a moment, determined to enjoy the meal. He could think about life altering things after dinner. After a moment or two though of trying to focus on his food, and not the dancing cutlery, he finally prodded Ryomiere who was hiding on a chair next to him – Tegette’s ambitious attentions not having waned at all in the last few weeks.

“What _are_ they doing?”

Ryomiere snorted softly, knowing exactly who Shigelle was talking about without having to stretch and look over the table top. “Practicing.”

“Practicing _what_ exactly?”

“They call themselves ~Arashi~, and when they were people, they were Master’s gardeners. Now they’ve gotten this brilliant idea somehow that if they never get to be human again, they’ll go on tour as singing cutlery. They’re not exactly that bright...”

Shigelle wasn’t even sure what to say to that. He’d met almost all of the staff over the last three weeks, most of them with their own little quirks and ... issues that went beyond being animate inanimate objects, but he wasn’t sure what to even say about cutlery (who used to be gardeners) who now wanted to be performers. Sighing, he returned to pushing his food around on his plate and thinking about Massu.

“You ~like~ him,” Ryomiere said with a grin, finally hopping up onto the table to give Shigelle his by-now trademark smug look. “This is great!”

Pointing his fork dangerously close to the nosy candelabra (and wondering if he poked holes in him, what would happen when he returned to his human state), Shigelle narrowed his eyes. “Don’t start this again. I’ve already told you, I’m not staying in this town, which means I am _not_ falling for Massu.”

Ryomiere’s grin widened. “You called him Massu. You’ve been calling him Masuda-san up until now.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Shigelle replied with a pout, slinking lower in his seat. “I’ve been here for three weeks. It’d weird if I hadn’t gotten close enough to him to be casual with our names...”

“Uh huh...”

“Don’t look at me like that. Don’t you have a feather duster to be running away from?”

Ryomiere panicked, darting onto Shigelle’s lap and looking around furtively for Tegette. He was starting to get even more persistent, and it was beginning to give Ryomiere panic attacks. “I hate you,” he said, deflating in relief when he realized Tegette was nowhere to be seen.

Grinning, Shigelle felt a little bit better for having annoyed Ryomiere in return. Sometimes the candelabra was just too much of a pain in the ass, so it was nice when he could get a few jabs back.

“Would it really be that bad?”

Blinking a bit at the sentence that came seemingly out of nowhere, Shigelle set down his fork and lifted Ryomiere up to look him in the eye. “Would _what_ really be that bad?”

“Put me down, dweeb,” Ryomiere hissed, wiggling uselessly in Shigelle’s hold. “And would staying here be so bad? I mean, sure, it’s not the _city~_ , but... you seem happy enough when you’re working with the Master...”

“I told you,” Shigelle said, setting Ryomiere down on the tabletop. “I have plans.”

“ _What_ plans? Because I don’t think just leaving this town actually counts as a valid plan. What do you plan on _doing_ when you leave?”

Not actually having an answer for that question, Shigelle stared down at his still mostly full plate. He’d always been so busy thinking about getting away, that he’d never actually thought any further than that, and hadn’t actually made plans for what he would do when he _did_ get away.

Ryomiere let out a smug sounding snort, but didn’t say any of the ‘I told you so’ sort of thoughts he was thinking. He knew you couldn’t force someone to fall in love, but from what he’d seen of the two of them, they were both pretty much all the way there, they were just too stubborn to do anything about it. In Shigelle’s case, because he insisted on this ridiculous notion that if he didn’t leave this town he wouldn’t _be_ someone, and in Massu’s case, because he was still hurting over what had happened to his career that the last thing he wanted was to be disappointed by love on top of that.

“Would it be so bad?”

Shigelle lifted his head and looked over at Maru, a small smile still curving his lips in amusement that he felt every time he saw the teapot’s argyle pattern even though he wasn’t really in the mood to laugh at the moment. “Would what be so bad?” he asked again, wondering if everyone was going to ask him the same question tonight.

“Staying here with our Master. Would it really be all that awful to stay here if you loved him? Is some grand life in the city better than love?”

Not sure what to say to that – mostly because he wasn’t sure what the right answer was – Shigelle stared blankly at his plate once more, fork still in hand. The cutlery continued to dance and sing further on down the large table, but Shige was getting used to their antics by now and could easily tune them out. “I don’t know. I’ve spent my whole _life_ wanting to leave... it’s hard to imagine suddenly deciding to stay, even for something like love.”

“If you make him happy,” Ryomiere said, his voice serious and not sarcastic for once, “Then it doesn’t matter if the curse is never lifted. If he’s happy with _you_ , without his clothes, without us being human, nothing else matters.”

“That’s awfully noble of you,” Shigelle said with a small smile, looking over at the usually snarky candelabra.

Ryomiere just preened. “Of course it is.”

Smile widening a little bit, Shigelle moved to get up before he suddenly slumped back in his seat as he thought of something. “... what if he doesn’t love me back?”

A puff pastry suddenly hit him square on the cheek, letting out a soft splurt of cream before it dropped to the ground. Shigelle blinked a bit in surprise, looking over at the one who’d thrown it and finding it a little bit unsurprising that it was Nagase, the former-chef-turned-oven. “What was that for?”

“Of course he’ll love you back, idiot. All of us have seen the way he looks at you. Besides, he’s actually been out of his moody funk that that bitch left him in since you got here. He’s been _happy_ ,” Nagase said before thunking and shuffling his way back to the kitchen. “So don’t be stupid,” he called over his shoulder. “And eat your dinner! I spent hours slaving over myself to make it!”

“... um... “

“Don’t even try and think about that, your head will explode,” Ryomiere said. “But he’s right. Master’s happier than ever right now, and it’s not a coincidence that you’re here when he’s suddenly happy.”

“Interfering ball of wax,” Shigelle muttered, but he knew when he was out applianced. Finishing up his food as quickly as he could without choking, he pushed back his chair and hurried from the room, going straight to Massu’s studio and hoping to find the designer there. If he wasn’t, Shigelle might lose the nerve to confess.

  


_-)—(-_

  
Luckily for Shigelle, Massu _was_ in his studio, but Shigelle stopped just inside the door when he saw what the older man was doing. Blinking a few times to make sure that his eyes hadn’t suddenly turned inside out or something equally as strange that might have impaired his vision, he finally found his voice. “How come you’re painting? ... I didn’t know you _could_ paint.”

Massu didn’t answer him right away, but Shigelle had seen him work before, and knew he was often lost in his own little world when he was concentrating. Drifting closer, he glanced at the painting and though it took him a minute to realize what it was, he found himself blushing at the realization that Massu was painting _him_.

“You like it?”

Tearing his gaze away from the bold strokes and bright colours, Shigelle forced himself to meet Massu’s gaze, despite his still pink cheeks. It was then that he realized, that despite the nearly abstract concept and the unusual choice of colours, he _did_ like the painting. “It’s good... I like it.”

The smile that lit up Massu’s face had Shigelle’s blush returning, and that tight feeling he seemed to get in his chest around the other man more often now returned as well. Struggling to find somewhere to look that wasn’t at Massu – but at the same time wasn’t obviously _not_ at Massu, Shigelle found his gaze drifting down to the man’s outfit. It was strange how after three weeks, he no longer blinked at some of the clothes that Massu wore, finding them just one more aspect of the designer that was him, even if they were still under the influence of his curse.

“I thought I’d try painting instead of designing clothes for a bit,” Massu said when the silence began to stretch just a little too long. “That way I can still feed my creativity without getting frustrated by everything going wrong.”

“Your clothes aren’t wrong,” Shige found himself saying, surprised to realize that it was how he truly felt. “They’re you, and there’s nothing wrong with that at all.”

While Shige knew nothing of what Massu’s designs had looked like before the curse, he felt like the cursed clothes were closer to Massu’s true personality than anything bland and boring that might have been popular with people who had no imaginations.

The bright smile that Massu gave him at his honest words had Shigelle’s stomach squirming slightly, and he had to look away before he did something really stupid.

“Thanks... no one’s ever said that before. About any of my designs actually,” Massu said as he set down his paintbrush and reached for an already paint splattered cloth to wipe his hands on. Looking up, he finally noted the blush that suffused Shigelle’s cheeks. “Is something wrong?”

“I uh...”

Put on the spot so suddenly, even if confessing had been what he’d come here to do, all sensical words abandoned him and left his tongue tangled and useless. Shuffling nervously, he scratched at the back of his head and cleared his throat, wondering if this was even the right thing to do. Massu’d already suffered through so many disappointments, what if he didn’t want someone like Shigelle falling in love with him?

“... Shigelle?”

Looking up at the soft tone, Shigelle inhaled a bit shakily and managed a wobbly smile, earning another bright smile from Massu in return. It was probably cliché and ridiculous, but it was that encouraging smile from Massu that made Shigelle feel like everything would be alright.

“I um... I think I have feelings for you,” Shigelle managed to get out, almost immediately wanting to kick himself for how dumb and vague that sounded. “What I mean is, I think I love you. I mean, I don’t think—I mean, I do _think_ , but I—“

Shigelle let out a muffled squeak when the sudden press of Massu’s lips against his own cut off his awkward flow of babble. Eyes wide and cheeks burning even darker with a hot rush of blood at the fact that Massu was _kissing_ him, Shigelle was sure he was about to pass out or something equally and ridiculously dramatic.

“I love you too,” Massu said softly when he pulled back from the kiss, the tiniest of smiles curving his lips at the sight of Shigelle’s shocked and blushing expression. He really was impossibly cute.

“... I... you... really?” Shigelle said a bit disbelievingly, finding it a bit surreal that Massu actually loved him back. After all, in order for this to be properly dramatic, Massu should be gently turning him down, so that he could run back to his room crying. Instead he was at a loss for words, not sure what to say next.

Massu nodded. If this were anyone but Shigelle, he thought that he might be a little offended that the other man didn’t believe how he felt, but he’d learned very quickly that Shigelle didn’t see himself the way that everyone else did.

“Oh... well um... that’s good,” Shigelle replied a bit absently. “Unfortunately... I don’t love your clothes, even if I do think they suit you. They really are quite horrid.”

It was impossible for Massu not to laugh at that, because Shigelle looked so adorably apologetic. “That’s alright... I think Ryomiere’s gotten used to being able to light things on fire at will. It’s also kind of useful to have a couch that comes to you when you call.”

Grinning in response to Massu’s apparent good humour that his curse might never be broken, Shigelle glanced away shyly before looking back at the other man. “... will you kiss me again? I didn’t do such a good job of it the first time.”

And so Massu did, and Shigelle, being a quick learner, did a much better job the second time around.

  


_-)—Epilogue; aka the Pinunion —(-_

  
“So... do you have an alarm function?” Jinston said, peering at his best friend-who-was-now-a-clock curiously.

“... of course, why?”

“Because this way you can still wake me up in the mornings,” Jinston replied with a happy grin.

Pisworth rolled his eyes, but vowed to wake Jinston up with the loudest and most obnoxious setting he had. Just because he’d missed bugging the idiot. Not because he’d just missed him. Not at all. Really.


End file.
